Gemotions

He stared at the glowing screen, the words of the blog post, which she had worked endlessly on, mocking him. The words now belonged to "Mr. Henderson." He felt a searing heat in his cheeks, as if he'd been slapped.

The small, cramped apartment, usually a haven of creativity, now felt like a cage. He couldn't bring himself to write, the words now seemed tainted, poisoned. He tossed the laptop on the bed and paced the apartment, each step carrying a growing frustration. He kicked a chair.

He didn't eat. He didn't speak. He stared out the window, watching the world go by, while a black hole of hurt grew in his chest.